It’s Complicated –

Sink or swim.

Hundred pound of feathers,

or a hundred pounds of lead?

Doggy paddle or breast stroke?

Doesn’t fucking matter, she says

My daddies got a motor boat.

I just smile and flick my ashes

in her drink,

and keep on walking.

You see it’s complicated,

this you and me thing.

My chemistry is mangled compared to

yours and there is no untangling

such a goddam chore

of a life you take

for granted.

You don’t see.

For me, it’s complicated,

like chess, or Risk

It’s far from fucking checkers

dear.

A game, is a game, is a game

and it could be fun,

This you and me.

It’s complicated.

For every game big or small

has got its rules but sadly

you never learned to read.

By Philip Wardlow 2014